|The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Travels of Sir John Mandeville by Sir John Mandeville:
the city of Any in the which were wont to be a thousand churches.
But upon that mountain to go up, this monk had great desire. And
so upon a day, he went up. And when he was upward the three part
of the mountain he was so weary that he might no further, and so he
rested him, and fell asleep. And when he awoke he found himself
lying at the foot of the mountain. And then he prayed devoutly to
God that he would vouchsafe to suffer him go up. And an angel came
to him, and said that he should go up. And so he did. And sith
that time never none. Wherefore men should not believe such words.
From that mountain go men to the city of Thauriso that was wont to
be clept Taxis, that is a full fair city and a great, and one of
|The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Voyage of the Beagle by Charles Darwin:
an instant the Indians mounted their horses, and galloped
out of sight. Another attack was still more quickly repulsed.
A cool Frenchman managed the gun; he stopped till the
Indians approached close, and then raked their line with
grape-shot: he thus laid thirty-nine of them on the ground;
and, of course, such a blow immediately routed the whole
The town is indifferently called El Carmen or Patagones.
It is built on the face of a cliff which fronts the river, and
many of the houses are excavated even in the sandstone.
The river is about two or three hundred yards wide, and is
The Voyage of the Beagle
|The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ball at Sceaux by Honore de Balzac:
light, like a person out of all proportion with the rest.
The stranger, alone and absorbed in thought, leaned lightly against
one of the columns that supported the roof; his arms were folded, and
he leaned slightly on one side as though he had placed himself there
to have his portrait taken by a painter. His attitude, though full of
elegance and dignity, was devoid of affectation. Nothing suggested
that he had half turned his head, and bent it a little to the right
like Alexander, or Lord Byron, and some other great men, for the sole
purpose of attracting attention. His fixed gaze followed a girl who
was dancing, and betrayed some strong feeling. His slender, easy frame
recalled the noble proportions of the Apollo. Fine black hair curled